


time is of the essence (a few firsts)

by WattStalf



Series: cos your love's got the best of me (baby, you're making a fool of me) [2]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Marriage Proposal, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, i dont know what the fuck im doing, theres death mentions and death wishes like always, this is not very good and way too long and im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lua...Lua, we're engaged now, you know that?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	time is of the essence (a few firsts)

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my needlessly long fic that talks about how they met, I mention him proposing within a week, so I piggyback off of that. In my Seven Heavenly Virtues series, in the chastity one, I mention that they frickfrack for the first time after he proposes. And so, here it is, both of those combined, with a lot more bullshit. This is honestly kind of awful cos I kept dealing with feelings too much and running in circles, and projecting and putting too fucking much into how I write Ladd, as per fucking usual. I'm sorry for all of this.

He's only known her for a week, but in that short amount of time, everything in both of their lives has changed. She, in particular, changes before his eyes, and for that entire week, he doesn't do a damn thing but spend his time with her. He doesn't do a damn thing but tell her everything he can think to tell her about himself, until there's nothing left to say, and then she is the one who has to do the talking.

Ladd has already accepted the possibility that she won't want to say anything to him; Lua was quiet from the beginning, and even after being so forward as to ask him to kill her, and even after willingly going with him from that point on, she is still quiet. She borders on being shy, and he knows that it's entirely possible that she won't ever open up to him about anything. He won't push her, he decides, but he's pleasantly surprised when she _does_ speak about herself, even if it isn't much.

But in that time, he gets to know her, slowly but surely, drinking in her soft words and memorizing the shifts in her expression, and maybe he's only known her for a week, but she's  _special_ and he's spent more alone time with her than he has with most people, and he  _knew_ , damn it, from the very beginning that he was falling in love with her. Who else out there is going to understand him the way she does? Who else is going to love his very core in the way that she does? 

He isn't a  _stranger_ to loving, but he is a stranger to being loved in such a way, and so his own feelings are new. Perhaps he isn't a stranger to loving, but he thinks he might be a stranger to romance, but it isn't as if Lua seems particularly well-versed in that area either. When he asks her about her history in that regard, she gives him a blank look and shakes her head. There's nothing to tell.

“But you're gorgeous!” he says. “You had to have had guys like me all the time. Well, not like _me_ , but you know!”

“I did,” she says. “I couldn't stand them. I just wanted them to leave me alone.”

“It was the same with me, right?” He laughs.

“Exactly,” she replies, and the brutal honesty just makes him laugh harder.

~X~

He has only known her for a week but he loves her madly and desperately and hopelessly and passionately, and he knows that he's got to marry her. With the way their lives are going, with the plans they have for the future, a proposal only makes sense, and he waits a week from meeting her to pop the question because he doesn't want to rush things  _too much_ . After spending an entire week getting to know her, he can't contain himself anymore, and on the night he proposes, she is a bit more talkative than usual, so much so that he hates to interrupt her for his own question.

“If you're going to stab me then I think I'd like to be able to look you in the eyes when you do it,” she says, going on about one of her favorite topics. One of the only things she hasn't explained to him yet is _why_ she wants this so badly, but he thinks that that makes it better, in a way. A simple fascination with dying is much more interesting than a longing to escape life. “But if you shoot me...I don't know what I'd prefer for that, I'll have to think about it.”

It's one of the longer contributions she's given to a conversation, and even though it's hard for him to wait his turn when he has something so important, so exciting on his mind, he manages. He waits until she's finished her sentence before he speaks up, and his heart is beating so loudly that he wonders if it's audible.

“Well, you know, I'm willing to listen to your requests and take them to heart, but I'm still not going to tell you how I'm going to do it,” he replies. “And even if you keep guessing and keep asking, I'm just gonna tell you the same thing over and over again! I know it seems like a long wait and it's hard to be patient, but, you know, if you just keep on, it's gonna be so, so, _so_ worth it for you, you know what they say! And, say, if you've got me keeping you busy...”

He trails off and takes a breath, trying to ground himself a bit before he actually says what comes next. “So, you know, since we're going to be like this for a long time and all, well, I was just thinking about things. What I wanna know is-” and here, he takes her hand- “Lua, you think you wanna get married?”

Her eyes widen, but on barely and it probably wouldn't even be a noticeable amount if he wasn't already looking close, and Ladd doesn't remember when he started holding his breath. She nods, and when she says, “Yes,” it's barely audible, but she  _smiles_ , and it's the same as the first smile she ever gave him, and he doesn't know if he's  _ever going to feel anything quite like this ever again_ .

The first time he kissed her was on that first night, because he hadn't been able to contain himself after their conversation, and he's made a habit of it since then. When she says yes, when he lets out the breath he's been holding, he pulls on her shoulders and crushes his lips against hers, hard and needy because he needs to feel how  _goddamn real_ all of this is. How did he let himself fall so hard for her, and why doesn't he mind this in the slightest? They're going to get married and then he's going to kill her, and he's the happiest man in the world, the happiest he has ever been. He knows that with absolute certainty.

Ladd clings to her shoulders like they're the only solid thing he can find, the only thing tying him down- and maybe, if he were articulate man he might be able to say that Lua in general served that sort of purpose lately, that that was one of the real roots of his affection- and he moans, loud and pathetic and desperate and needy. He holds onto her so tight that he's probably going to bruise her, and that sends such a shudder of excitement through him that for a moment, he isn't sure  _what_ has come over him.

And then he breaks the kiss and he sees the way her cheeks are flushed and he can hear the short gasps of breath, there's this  _look_ in her eyes, and he  _knows_ . He knows not only because he knows  _her_ and has begun to be able to guess at what new expressions means, but because he feels it too, and he knows damn well that this can only end one way. Of course it falls to him to take the lead, and he puts on his usual face of bravado, even if it feels a little bit forced this time.

“Lua,” he breathes, and even he is surprised by how husky his voice comes out sounding. He wonders if he should try clearing his throat, but her blush deepens so maybe she liked it. “Lua,” he repeats, “we're engaged now, you know that? We're getting married, so...it only makes sense...that if we want to get closer...then there's nobody who can object.” With each pause, his pushes his face closer to hers until finally, their foreheads are resting against one another. It's the quietest she has ever heard his voice get.

“What...?” She lets the question hang in the air, because she knows what he's going to ask and she knows how goddamn forward he is being. It's unthinkable, of course, and she's a lady and they aren't even married and even if she knows him better than anyone and even if she's let him get to know her better than anyone, she's still only known him a week, so there's just _no way_ that she can go through with this! He can tell that's what she's thinking, or what she's thinking she's supposed to think.

“You know,” he murmurs, dropping his face down until his lips are against her neck, and he nibbles lightly, imagining how her delicate skin would pull and tear beneath a knife, how her pale, pale neck would bruise so very quickly if he wrapped his hands around her and squeezed and didn't let go. “You know exactly what I'm talking about, my little angel.”

Her breath hitches and she fidgets, and he takes a deep breath, taking in her scent. Roses now, but it's a new perfume that he just bought her the day before. She smells more familiar with it, somehow, more like herself, he thinks, but that thought doesn't even make sense to him. His lust grows and grows and grows even when he thinks it can't anymore, and the ache of his desire is just that; an  _ache_ , so painfully persistent, and he wonders if it hurts her in the same agonizing, pleasant way.

“We...shouldn't,” she says at last, barely managing to find her own voice. “Not so soon, when we aren't even...” She's struggling to speak, and struggling to try and hide the reluctance in her token resistance.

He first told her he loved her the day after the met, though he hadn't necessarily been planning on telling her so quickly. In his excitement, it had just slipped out, and she had looked terrified to hear it. Her eyes had gone a little bit bigger than he was used to and her shoulders had stiffened, and he had been able to tell right away that something was wrong. But when he'd tried a clumsy apology, she had interrupted him, the first time she had ever done something like that.

“I just don't know what to say,” she'd nearly whispered. “I've never felt anything before, but now...it's very sudden, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do.”

“Don't worry about a thing, baby,” he'd quickly said. “You don't have to be anything but yourself when you're with me.” She had looked up at him then, taking a breath as if to steady herself, and she had spoken in a clear tone and told him that she loved him in return.

Now, he looks back up to her and strokes her face tenderly, and he repeats his words from before. “Don't worry about a thing, baby. You don't have to be anything but yourself when you're with me. You know that, right? When it's just us? You don't have to be  _anyone_ else in the world, cos I don't  _want_ anyone else, not in the whole word.”

“Ladd,” she breathes, and then she seems to melt, to dissolve under his touch all once, and that's all it takes.

He knows, of course, that this is her first time. She's not told him, but she's told him  _enough_ , and he knows there's been nobody in her life before him. She doesn't know that this is his as well; he doesn't know if he should say so or not, what with how much she's counting on him to lead the way, and he knows what he's doing, even if he's never taken it this far before. It isn't hard to figure his way around this, and he has her out of his clothes in no time, and he's out of his in even less.

He carries her to his bedroom, he lays her on the bed like she's something fragile, and he looks at her. It feels like he's doing something wrong, so openly at her when she's exposed, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't love the feeling of doing wrong, and they're on equal ground anyway. She's looking off to the side, stealing quick glances at him, and her blush just keeps getting darker. Ladd climbs on top of her, grinning down at her to try and put her at ease and to try and ground himself. He has to pause because he realizes that he doesn't know where to start.

Balancing himself on one hand, he touches her face again, trails it down to her neck where he hesitates because he wants to choke her so  _bad_ , and she leans up into his touch. “So, that's what you want,” he murmurs, delighted that they're on the same page, and he gets up on his knees so that he can wrap both hands around her neck.

It isn't necessary to use both, when his hands are so large that even one nearly encircles her throat completely, but he wants to add the right amount of pressure, he wants to do this right. He's vaguely aware of the fact that his self-control might slip, but he  _isn't_ killing her tonight, he's already decided. He hasn't known her long enough or spent enough time with her or done all the things he wants to do, and besides, they're getting  _married_ and that  _has_ to come first.

It's positively exhilarating to hold her life in his hands like this and to watch her struggle and then to relax, to watch her face shift. He isn't sure how much time passes, and it is both too quick and an eternity, until her eyes are closing and he knows she's close to passing out. A benefit to all of his experience is that he knows just when to stop to avoid that, and even though there is a part of him begging for him to take it the rest of the way, he relaxes his grip. He lets her catch her breath, he lets her come back into herself, and he lets her live, because it's just not time yet.

Ladd places one of his hands between her legs and she gasps weakly, her breath taking its time to return to her. He already wants to choke her again, but later, later; right now he has to finish what he's started, they have to go through with this before he becomes distracted by other temptations. She feels eager, feels almost ready, and her little sighs, her nearly silent moans almost do him in even as he fingers her. Everything is threatening to do him in and he's so goddamn  _excited_ and in love and she's beautiful, he can't keep waiting like this.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice sounding more like a snarl than he had intended. Her eyes light up, however, and instead of being intimidated, she's enraptured, and damn it if that isn't what makes her the most amazing woman he's ever known.

If he thought that maintaining his self-control when he was strangling her was hard, it's nothing compared to the slow way he has to press himself inside of her. He knows that if he doesn't take this slowly, he's going to hurt her, and that's the last thing he wants to do under these circumstances. His breathing is labored and he feels like he should be shaking, but he doesn't force it and he feels her relaxing more and more, repaying him for his gentle efforts.

And then it has really begun and holding back is no longer an option, but Lua doesn't cry or scream; she whimpers, she moans, and she smiles, and even though he has been on edge from the very beginning, he fights against himself until he knows that he has her there.

“I'm going to kill you,” he finds himself muttering. “I love you, I love you, I love you so, so much, my little angel, and I'm going to kill you and I could kill you like this, I could and you wouldn't ever see it coming and that would be _so nice_ , I know you think so too, and-” His words grow more and more incoherent, but Lua is drinking it all in and it is his words, it is his promise and his threat, that pushes her over her own edge, and he' there with her immediately. Ladd is both surprised and proud he could manage to hold out so long.

She's really his now, in nearly every sense of the word, and this is what he wanted. He's only known her for a week, but he had to make sure she would marry him, and he had to take her in this regard, because there is so much he wants to do with her and he wants all of her, and time feels so goddamn limited. There's so much to worry about in regards to keeping her safe long enough that he can kill her perfectly, that  _he_ can kill her, that  _no one else_ can ever know her in that regard and  _no one else_ can  _ever_ take Lua from him, that he can't afford to be patient in any other regard.

Time is so valuable and he has so much to do in such short time, and he doesn't want to wait on anything he doesn't have to. He's never going to wait on anything again, because he doesn't like to wait and there's no  _point_ in denying himself, and the only thing he'll deny himself is the chance to kill her, and only because he can only do that once and because once it is over, she is gone and there is a part of him.

_There is a part of him._

There is a part of him that he always tries to ignore that knows he is going to feel empty when it's all over. He's only known her a week but he already doesn't know how he's going to live without her, and maybe if he stops ignoring that part of him, for at least a little bit, he might be able to come up with a solution, one that does not leave him empty but does not leave her with a broken promise. One that does not leave her alive, because that isn't what she wants.

Tonight, he keeps on ignoring that part of him, because it's a happy occasion and he's living in the moment, not worrying about the future. He's engaged now and they're going to be married, and Lua loves him and he loves her, and he's more in love than he's ever been, and she's all his, now and forever. No matter what, she's all his. Now and forever and after that, if he could manage.

“Next time,” she says softly, and he realizes it's the first time she's spoken since he started fucking her. “Next time, could you hold a gun to my head?”

He feels himself stirring at her words; of course he can bounce back so quickly, he  _does_ hate to wait after all, and he gets the feeling that she's the exact same way. “Just let me go get it,” he replies.

 


End file.
